


The Hard Sell

by keerawa



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Cultural Differences, Gen, Goblins, Holidays, Pandarens, The Feast of Winter Veil, Yuletide, Yuletide 2012
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-23
Updated: 2012-12-23
Packaged: 2017-11-22 04:26:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/605805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keerawa/pseuds/keerawa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No goblin ever got rich selling stuff that people actually needed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hard Sell

**Author's Note:**

  * For [voleuse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/voleuse/gifts).



Blax Bottlerocket pushed his cart to the edge of The Drag and took inventory. He was completely out of Grindgear Gorillas, very popular with the trolls this year, and down to his last jug of Blue Warbot Fuel. He’d have to put in a rush order with Bixie in Bilgewater Harbor, and his sister’s 20% mark-up for same day delivery would cut into his profit margins something awful.

“whhhheeeEEEEEEE!”

The sound made Blax look up to see something plummeting out of the sky, headed right for him. Blax hurled himself at his cart, shoving it out of danger. Broken bones healed, but nobody would buy broken merchandise.

The object missed him by inches, rolled three times, and smashed into a wooden support beam. Blax eyed it warily, in case it was about to explode. 

“Oof,” it said, turning over. It was a brown and white furred female, one of those pandarens.

Blax hurried over to check on the potential customer. “Hey missy! You all right there?”

She popped gracefully to her feet, brushed the dust off her leather jerkin, and bowed. “A thousand apologies. I should have checked my landing zone more carefully before leaping.”

“Leaping? You mean you did that on purpose?” Blax had seen dozens of pandarens fall off of ledges around Orgrimmar. He’d assumed they were clumsy, or possibly near-sighted. Blax had considered adding a side-line of corrective goggles after the holiday rush was over.

“Of course!” She beamed down at Blax. “Orgrimmar is a city of many marvels. Integrating your training grounds into the city itself - three elevations, with the red trampolines scattered about for target practice – it is remarkable.”

Blax eyed the red cloth awnings that provided shoppers with a bit of shade from the desert sun. So the pandarens weren’t near-sighted after all. They were nuts! None of the goblins had learned much about the pandarens, yet. They didn’t seem interested in buying anything except food. And sure, cousin Lulu was making a decent amount of copper off them with her famous ale-glazed swine bellies, but no goblin ever got rich selling stuff that people actually needed. Creating a demand for whatever you happened to have in stock, that was the ticket. 

“Yep. It’s a remarkable city, all right,” Blax said. “And you’ve arrived just in time for the most important holiday of the year, the Feast of Winter Veil.”

The pandaren nodded enthusiastically. “I have admired the lights, and the great tree. A tauren shaman in the Valley of Wisdom was speaking to me of the traditions his people follow at this time of year.”

“Ah, but I bet he didn’t tell you about the most important tradition of all.” Blax glanced around the Drag, as if worried someone might over-hear, and gestured the pandaren girl closer. She crouched down to hear him. “Presents,” Blax whispered fervently.

The pandaren tilted her head. “Presents?” she whispered back.

“Presents!” Blax yelled.

The Pandaren flinched back to her full height.

“Now I, personally, specialize in presents for the little ones. Warbots, air rifles, dollies, toy trains and stuffed animals of all kinds. Oh, you should see the way the tykes’ eyes light up when they open up one of these on the morning of Winter Veil. Or two, or three, or a dozen. The more the better!” 

The pandaren had backed up two steps. Not a good sign. 

“And what is the purpose of all these presents?” she asked.

“Whoever gets the most presents, WINS!” Blax declared.

She frowned. He was shooting in the dark here, not knowing anything about the pandarens. 

“It’s good luck, for both the giver and the receiver of the presents?” he ventured. 

She still didn't look ready to buy. Hmm. She seemed to like the taurens. “And of course acts of generosity at this time of year are especially pleasing to the ancestors.”

“Oh,” she said, in a tone of sudden enlightenment, leaning forward to inspect the toys displayed at the top of Blax’s cart. Score! Blax would need to keep that line in mind for all the other pandarens.

She reached out to touch a green rag doll that was propping up the corner of the Warbot display. “My little sister has a doll much like this one. She carries it everywhere with her.”

“Oh, if she likes dolls, I’ve got an amazing clockwork orc baby in here. It cries every half hour, and keeps crying until you feed it. I can give you a great price on the oil you need to feed it, too, package deal.”

“No,” the girl said softly. “I think I shall not see my sister again for quite some time.” She stood up suddenly and began to walk away.

Blax was stunned. He had invested over three minutes of his precious time on this girl, and now she was gonna walk away without buying anything? Unacceptable. “Wait,” he yelled.

She turned around, wiping her eyes, chin at a proud tilt. Sad. She looked so sad. Blax pushed his cart over to her. He kept his voice quiet and deep, like one of her own people. “You got no friends or family here, do you?” he guessed.

“I … no,” she answered, shoulders curling in miserably.

Poor kid. “Well, you can’t go without presents on the Feast of Winter Veil. It just wouldn’t be right,” Blax said. He pulled out the little green rag doll. “Here. Keep this in your pack. Then, any time you see it, it’ll remind you of your little sister, make you smile.”

She reached for the doll with one shaky paw. 

“That’ll be eight gold,” he told her gently. She scrabbled blindly in her pouch for the coins, tears leaving a track down her face. He traded her the doll for the coins, and then threw one of the little cloths he kept in his pocket for cleaning fingerprints off his merchandise into the deal. “There’s a little pool around the corner there, in the Valley of Honor. Why don’t you go wash your face.”

She bowed deeply, doll and cloth clutched tightly in her paws. “Thank you for your kindness.”

He bowed back, awkwardly, and she smiled at him. “Awww, it was nothing, kid. Happy Winter Veil!”

The girl headed towards the Valley of Honor. Blax turned around and pushed his cart towards the lift, whistling a cheerful holiday tune. He needed to send a message to Bixie ASAP and order some more of these rag dolls. With what he’d learned from that pandaren girl, he was gonna make a fortune over the next few days.


End file.
